


refraction

by kyu (dazaicat)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, lapslock, theyre girls ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-24 09:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12009915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dazaicat/pseuds/kyu
Summary: there is a new girl in their class - and suddenlypaying attentionis the easiest thing yura has ever done, or perhaps the hardest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from: google search, ' _what makes rainbows_ '. pure pointless gay fluff!

first time they meet, yura is craning her neck to see if the hamsters someone brought in for their new class 'animal corner' died yet. mila had jerked her back by the collar, hissing something about _paying_ _attention_ \- yura grumbled liberally and immediately, but mila's instincts were always god tier, and they've never failed her yet.

there is a new girl in their class - and suddenly _paying attention_ isthe easiest thing yura has ever done, or perhaps the hardest. 

that leather jacket _must_ be against dress code, and that undercut probably flouts a dozen rules in their high school handbook -- but the real kicker is the _attitude._ she looks at them like she doesn't know how out of place she and her extra-thick wedged boots are, or like she knows and simply doesn't _care_. not an outright challenge; her eyes say _come to me if you dare_ , and nothing of what happens if you do.

 _bek_ , she introduces herself, _bek altin._ she's quiet in the way a wolf is quiet, or a bear, watching you with steady eyes and a measured gaze that can turn to heavy claws in the blink of an eye.

 _shit,_ yura thinks. _i'm fucked._

♡

she should've known bek would be an instant hit; should have elbowed her way into the line, or something, but something in the calm and contemplative way she considers every offer of friendship keeps yura back.

see - bek is never _rude,_ and yura doesn't know why she's so wary of that.

 _thank you,_ says bek to offers of past lesson notes from girls with sweet shy smiles and mathematically precise pigtails.

 _not interested,_ says bek to offers of a date each time boys come to her with too-confident grins. yura always bites her lip at that, because - not interested? what _is_ she interested in?

♡

_music,_ she learns about a week in. bek's interested in _music,_ which is at once something yura never expected but also immediately understands as the most bek thing ever. 

__

she isn't _stalking_ her, no matter what mila says, but she has wondered where bek manages to disappear off to every single recess period and if there is one thing yura is bad at: wondering about things in silence.

so she finds out soon enough; during the senior recess break older students come to the back of the school to smear cherry lipgloss on each other's lips and grind ashes into the (dirty) gravel with their heels so it isn't _that_ strange to imagine bek, two-inch-boots bek, leather-jacket bek, undercut-bek slinking off there too.

what's _strange_ is what yura finds; bek sits on the (dirty) gravel, two-inch boots neatly crossed on top of her leather jacket, back against the peeling brick wall -- but she isn't licking into anyone's mouth or blowing smoke from lips pressed too hard together.

instead, she has cherry-red headphones on and the kind of look on her face that suggests that she is entirely at peace with the universe and everything in it besides.

 _what are you listening to,_ yura wants to ask. _what does it make you feel like, if you look like that._

she doesn't ask, but not for lack of desire to know. she doesn't ask because she doesn't know how to justify asking. she's _yura_ ; popular enough, class president two grades ago, honey-gold braids chewed up at the ends before that _incident_ where she lobbed four inches of her hair off with scissors she stole from her mother's sewing kit. her mother called that an _act of rebellion;_ her father said _it's part of growing up --_ but next to bek, yura doesn't feel at all rebellious or grown up.

she feels like a child looking in on someone worlds more autonomous, independent in the way that grownups are because they can use their money to buy infinite poptarts while yura can only get a box a week with groceries -- they don't, though, just like _bek_ wouldn't, and yura hates with a passion that she _would._

 _music,_ though, yura thinks. _that_ she can get behind. maybe if she finds out what bek listens to, at the risk of having her cherry-red and no doubt expensive headphones confiscated -- maybe then she'll finally understand something.

♡

maybe she will finally understand why, with the entire cohort and maybe even part of the senior class at her disposal, bek chooses solitude.

she doesn't exactly push people away; she just doesn't _choose_ them, any of them, and floats away somehow if they don't do it first.

she accepts names and numbers; politely rejects cupcakes and offers of lunch together and study group invitations. she even rejects mila, the one time she talks to her; yura knows because she's bugged mila for details immediately, yanking on her hair to annoy her extra. mila had that far-off look in her eyes for a moment, that grown-up look that scared yura - it was _respect._ then she grinned and jabbed her bony elbow into yura's side, crowing about _yurochka's little crush_ , and the fear of being left behind rapidly morphed into an annoyed _shut up, baba._

yura's not the only one who noticed, is the point; some people are more insistent than others. some people see themselves as more _necessary._

 _ice queen,_ they start to say. bek is nice enough; but she doesn't go on dates with boys and she doesn't smile at too-confident smirks and she doesn't listen to music in front of them but it's obvious she wishes she was _elsewhere -_ some people get the wrong idea from that, and take offense.

bek doesn't notice, probably, just like she doesn't notice yura taking offense at people taking offense. 

when yura hears rumors, she sneers; when she overhears a group of boys talking about how they're going to _melt the ice queen_ yura thinks _good luck, she'll freeze you out first,_ but what comes out of her mouth instead is _hey assholes_ a few shades too loud.

they notice; they sneer too, in triplicate, and jab at yura with _oh, you got a crush?_ and _as if she'd even look at you_ like sticks at a wild animal and yura is so angry _angry_ _**angry**_ because it's _true_ , it's all _true_ , but what do they know?

 _we wouldn't hit a girl_ , one of them leers. she sees red.

 _too fucking bad, because i would hit a boy_ , she bares her teeth at them. _can't handle it?_

she doesn't remember when exactly that was said in relation to her fist in his nose, but it ends in knees scraped so hard they bleed on (dirty) gravel - she's just one brave person, against three cowards, and cowards play dirty. 

one kicks gravel up towards her face, a spray of little rocks and dirt, and she firmly tells herself it's that to blame for her watering eyes. she growls; but it's a lost cause, a stupid lost cause, and mila is too far away and her knees are going to be scabbed and she's so _angry_ she could cry.

she's heard a lot about guardian angels -- typical religious russian household -- but in no version of the stories did an angel come in a worn black hoodie and knee-length boots. 

but one came anyway; it's not the ideal way to be introduced to bek, she thinks numbly, but bek's hands are warm on her shoulders and her eyes are ice cold locked on the trio and there is nothing more miraculous that yura can imagine, short of not being close to tears.

bek says nothing to them; they get brave for a second and shout out a slur, but bek's hands tighten on yura's shoulders as if to hold her back and she says _how original. let's go, yura._

when they're out of earshot yura wants to ask how bek knows her name, but what comes out instead is a harsh sob and all the tears she somehow managed to hold in. she sinks into a crouch and hugs her knees; ashamed, but still crying, and to bek's credit she crouches down right next to yura and doesn't look ashamed at all.

she offers yura her black hoodie, impossibly soft and warm, and yura thinks - _i cant cry into such a treasure._ but she takes it, anyway, because she's either very weak or very strong, and bek gives her a small smile that momentarily makes her forget how to breathe. _bek smiles?_

then bek's smile drops, and her hand is warm on yura's shoulder.

 _i heard what they said,_ shesays _,_ voice low and careful. _about you._

_about you too_ , yura retorts.

 _you dont - mind?_ bek asks, oddly hesitant.

 ** _no!_** yura says too fast and too loud, almost cringeworthy in how genuine the sentiment is.

bek grins, and it's immediately worth everything.

 _do you want to be friends, yura plisetsky_? she asks.

 _holy shit_ , yura thinks and then says on accident. _yes. of course_ _, bek altin. i would be friends with you, i guess_.

♡

bek says: keep the hoodie. yura keeps the hoodie and bek too. mila teases, but what does she know? everything, probably, though she's kind about it.

yura keeps a lot of small things, too: the knowledge that bek used to do ballet, but had to quit a few years ago. she keeps bek's favourite song, some moody and surprisingly soft thing with english lyrics whispered over a dreamy melody. she keeps every single one of bek's rare warm smiles and rarer grins. she keeps the moment suspended in golden winter sunlight of the time they went to the rink, surprising each other with how well they did on skates and letting competition burn all their energy in increasingly complex challenges until they collapsed in a warm-happy-laughing heap in the snow.

in return, bek keeps her heart even if she doesn't know it yet, so yura thinks it's a fair trade.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bek's pov!!

when they first meet, bek is more nervous about being suddenly thrust into a whole new ecosystem than anything else.

the teacher nudges her along; she nods, because despite what people might think, she isn't actually some kind of rebel without cause. she's _nervous,_ not _obstinate._

the class falls silent immediately as she enters and she thinks: _here we go._ they look harmless enough, but it's still far too many foreign eyes on her at once. many foreign shades -- she's used to black and brown where she comes from, but suddenly there is a striking _blue,_ a shade of fresh sea-and-sky. these eyes are on her too but they're _different_ , somehow, from all the rest. she kind of wants to ask _why_ \- what do those eyes see her as? what do those eyes see that she doesn't every morning in the mirror?

 _my name is bek_ , she says instead, into the waiting silence. _bek altin._

she wonders if the owner of the striking blue-green eyes knows how hard she's biting on her own lip.

♡

on hindsight, she should have expected social interaction as something a little less theoretical and a little more practical. 

there are so many people; they all seem to want something, to be waiting for something, but none of them seem to be the right kind of people for anything more than a smile and a few words exchanged. 

the girls bring her notes, color coded neat script flowing across pages and ruled lines straight as bek _isn't_. they come in smiling groups - politely welcoming, but quietly supportive of each other. 

the boys look at her when they think she doesn't see and approach her one by one. they ask her what she's doing; _reading,_ she says. _can i help you?_ whatever it is they want, it isn't _help_ , and they always give up too soon.

the absence is more and more obvious with every new name she learns and every new number in her handbook - whoever _blue-green_ is, they haven't even tried to approach her.

bek wonders why.

♡

bek also wonders why _yura plisetsky -_ \- name overheard shouted as yura executed a particularly impressive savage strike in their makeshift game of ball during recess -- doesn't approach her but instead chooses to stare at her from afar.

bek knows she might appear lost in music to a casual observer, head tipped back against crumbling brick and legs crossed with knees pulled up to her chest, but, really - she's not oblivious _,_ and there is nothing _casual_ about how intense those eyes are.

it's strange how bek doesn't mind.

she almost wants to call, _don't be shy_ , but when she so much as shifts on the gravel the eyes immediately disappear like she's spooked a rabbit.

bek wants to understand why. she doesn't know how to approach the subject matter, or the _subject_ _herself_ , because unlike her yura is never alone. outside of the times yura spends staring at her, apparently, and _god_ \-- bek just wants to _understand_.

♡

understanding comes both unexpected and swift.

bek is on her way to her usual music-listening spot; her usual heaphones around her forearm and her usual playlist already gently winding itself around her mind. it's an experience, to imagine something so vividly in your mind and then have it come to life when you press the play button.

she's imagined, vividly, how her name would sound in that voice with its heavy _yes-i-dare-so-what_ undertones; but when she hears the shout, _bek!!_ , she still isn't quite prepared.

luckily no one sees bek trip over her own boots with how fast she whips her head around to look, because everyone's attention, including hers, is on the picture yura plisetsky paints with her fist across the canvas of the face of some random dude.

it's a good punch, if a little against the school rules. good form, stunning execution, bek thinks, numbly. 

_yura plisetsky punches people_. _why_ is yura plisetsky punching people?

and what, for the love of the hamsters that haven't yet died, does that have to do with bek?

she doesn't have time to find the answers to those questions, because her boots are already crunching on the (dirty) gravel and her earphones are strategically moved to a safer spot around her neck as she rolls up her sleeves entirely on reflex. she doesn't know what she's doing with her face, honestly, but whatever it is, it's more hostile than usual, because the boy who has just kicked gravel in yura's face recoils immediately.

 _good_ , bek thinks.

when she helps yura up, bek is gentle. gentle hands on shoulders, gentle tone. looking at yura's lips quiver with the potential of tears makes _gentle_ hard -- then one of them opens their mouth and bek almost goes _fuck it_ and throws a punch of her own, but yura looks up at her so very sad and helpless that bek has to prioritize.

 _how original_ , she says, which is on hindsight a very unoriginal response. _let's go, yura._

yura nods, and walks off with such dignity for someone with bek's hands still on her shoulders. bek is stuck with how much she looks like a kitten, really: all cute and clawed and sniffling. she looks around, briefly -- what the _fuck_ was everyone else doing -- but everyone scatters like bugs in a flashlight beam.

when they're alone, yura sinks down along with bek's heart into a crouch and starts sobbing. it's angry sobs; more like hiccups than an expression of actual sadness.

 _hey_ , she says. yura looks up at her still crying like she's challenging her to say something about it, so instead bek takes off her hoodie and offers it to her as some kind of tangible comfort. yura stares at it for a second -- bek almost asks _are you going to take it or not_ \-- and then nods in gratitude and buries her entire face in it. _so fucking cute_ , bek thinks. _so cute._

but the need to _understand_ is still present, and it rears its head as if waiting for when it can join the conversation. bek sighs, and wonders how best to begin.

 _i heard what they said_ , she says, picking every word carefully. _about you._

yura bristles and pokes her head out of the hoodie. _about_ _you, too._

 _i gathered_ , bek thinks, but there is a more pressing question. _you don't -- mind?_

 _ **NO**_ , yura says, very firmly and loudly, almost dropping bek's hoodie.

bek blinks, but then the meaning behind the oddly forceful words clicks and she can't help but grin in relief.

 _do you want to be friends, yura plisetsky?_ she can't help the teasing note that creeps into that too, but it's worth it for how hard yura blushes.

 _holy shit_ , yura blurts out. _yes. of course, bek altin, i would be friends with you._ yura pauses a little there, and tacks on, a tad moody -- _i guess._

♡

bek understands less and less the more she understands, and that's the kind of strange oxymoron that follows wherever yura goes. she's a quiet loud; a loud quiet, and bek still can't figure her out but she's beginning to see that maybe figuring yura out isn't the end goal.

the end goal isn't clear, yet, but bek thinks she's getting there.

she gives yura her hoodie; in return, gets to see yura drowning in it and batting at bek's arm with hoodie paws whenever she wants to get her attention. she gives yura her favourite song; in return, gets to see yura's eyes widen as the chorus kicks in. 

she gives yura all those pieces of herself, take it or leave it; in return, yura appreciates every little one, and it's more than enough.

**fin.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this preview](https://m.youtube.com/?reload=2&rdm=2ryll83dx#/watch?v=BEMaH9Sm3lQ) made me love myself. please watch. please suffer alongside me.

**Author's Note:**

> [ [**t**](http://dazaicat.tk) ]


End file.
